


Coffee Breaks

by DT Maxwell (Draya)



Series: Coffee & Carbuncles [13]
Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: Alcohol, Animal Empathy, Au Ra Warrior of Light (Final Fantasy XIV), Disney Princess Effect, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Female Warrior of Light (Final Fantasy XIV), Ficlet Collection, Final Fantasy XIV: Heavensward, Final Fantasy XIV: Shadowbringers, Fluff, Gen, Highlander Hyur Warrior of Light (Final Fantasy XIV), Implied/Referenced Torture, Injury, Injury Recovery, Lalafell Warrior of Light (Final Fantasy XIV), Multiple Warriors of Light (Final Fantasy XIV), Post-Final Fantasy XIV: Stormblood, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Roegadyn Warrior of Light (Final Fantasy XIV), The Four Lords (Stormblood), Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Tumblr Ask Box Fic, Tumblr Prompt, War
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-30
Updated: 2020-07-31
Packaged: 2021-03-03 18:47:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 6,174
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24810304
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Draya/pseuds/DT%20Maxwell
Summary: Collection of short ficlets, ask fics, and prompt responses from tumblr, cleaned up for the Archive, about the Squad of Light: Synnove Greywolfe, Rereha Reha, Dancing Heron, and Alakhai Noykin (plus carbuncles, and everyone else who gets dragged into their nonsense and/or collateral damage).Please refer to the Table of Contents and notes at the beginning of each chapter for individual warnings where applicable.--Latest Chapter:Bowed, Bent, but Unbroken,or, Dancing Heron and the Battle of Rhalgr's Reach
Relationships: Aymeric de Borel/Warrior of Light, Warrior of Light & Warrior of Light (Final Fantasy XIV)
Series: Coffee & Carbuncles [13]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/807090
Comments: 56
Kudos: 36





	1. Table of Contents

**1\. Table of Contents**  
(You are here!)

 **2.[Royal Levin](https://archiveofourown.org/works/24810304/chapters/60507013#workskin)**  
Aymeric/WoL, featuring the Squad, the carbuncles, Aymeric de Borel, and the Coeurlregina of the Dravanian Forelands having her antlers charmed off.  
WARNINGS: Alcohol consumption.

 **3.[The Four Lords](https://archiveofourown.org/works/24810304/chapters/60798979#workskin)**  
Gen, featuring Synnove, three of the Four Lords of the Ruby Sea, and Synnove's Disney Princess Effect (again).  
WARNINGS: Alcohol consumption, spoilers for the Four Lords side story of _Stormblood_

 **4.[Wolekdorf](https://archiveofourown.org/works/24810304/chapters/60859786)**  
Gen, featuring the Scions, the Squad, and the immediate arrival to Wolekdorf in Il Mheg.  
WARNINGS: Mild spoilers for the Il Mheg quests in _Shadowbringers_

 **5.[Shadowed Sleep](https://archiveofourown.org/works/24810304/chapters/61392124)**  
Aymeric/WoL, featuring Aymeric, Synnove, and how the Dragonsong War can still haunt one's nights.  
WARNINGS: PTSD, references to combat injuries (particularly those related to fighting dragons, including immolation), implied torture.

 **6.[Haze](https://archiveofourown.org/works/24810304/chapters/62078491)**  
Gen, featuring Alakhai and Galette, in the aftermath of the Battle of Rhalgr's Reach.  
WARNINGS: Aftermath of combat, referenced combat injuries.

 **7.[Cat Naps](https://archiveofourown.org/works/24810304/chapters/62131888)**  
Aymeric/WoL, featuring Halulu, Aymeric, and Synnove, and Synnove's predilection for strange places to sleep.  
WARNINGS: None.

 **8.[Treed](https://archiveofourown.org/works/24810304/chapters/62183473)**  
Gen, featuring Rereha, Alakhai, and an unfortunate encounter with the coeurls of the Dravanian Forelands.  
WARNINGS: None.

 **9.[Bowed, Bent, but Unbroken](https://archiveofourown.org/works/24810304/chapters/62232877)**  
Gen, featuring Dancing Heron in the immediate aftermath of the Battle of Rhaglr's Reach.  
WARNINGS: Aftermath of violence, combat injuries, mentions of blood.


	2. Royal Levin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tumblr ask: "What was (if it's happened) Aymeric's reaction to Synnove's animal thing when it happened with him present?"
> 
> WARNINGS: Alcohol consumption.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Originally posted to my tumblr on May 5, 2018!

“Who’s a pretty girl?” Synnove cooed. “Who’s a pretty _giiiiiiiirl_? It’s you! Yes, it’s you! This beautiful, spotted white coat! These gorgeous green antlers! You’re the prettiest kitty, yes you _are!_ ”

The Coeurlregina’s purr was as loud as the levin rolling across the Dravanian Forelands, the sheer might of the aether even now crackling across her antlers warping the skies from blue to green. The enormous cat had her chin resting in Synnove’s lap, her golden eyes closed to bare slits in pleasure, kneading the ground on either side of the sitting Highlander and digging equally enormous furrows with her taloned paws. Synnove alternated scratching between the great queen’s eyes and her cheek right at the base of her whisker with one hand, the other hand smoothing along the soft velvet covering new antler growth.

The rest of the traveling party were a respectful distance away. Heron, Alakhai, Tyr, and Ivar were in a staring contest with four of the coeurls from the royal clowder who had left their queen’s entourage—most of whom were too busy being perturbed at their blissed out queen to mind their fellows—to inch closer; Tyr _loomed,_ his aether roiling in a way that made seem him nearly as big as Heron, while Ivar snorted smoke. Heron and Alakhai’s chocobos were glaring over the shoulder of their respective mistresses, beaks clacking every few moments in a warning that had the coeurls skittering back before creeping forward once more. Rereha’s sky blue jennet, feathers fluffed unhappily, had decided standing behind the destrier and rouncey was her safest option, as her lalafell mistress rummaged in her saddlebags. And Aymeric—

Aymeric, his Lord Commander’s armor stowed away in favor of more practical traveling leathers, stood a little apart from the stare-off, gaze affixed on Synnove, the hand covering his mouth doing absolutely nothing to hide his wide, besotted grin.

Behind him, his black chocobo heaved a deep, unamused sigh. Chantilly warked in commiseration. Galette loafed harder on Chantilly’s saddle pillion, flat as a pancake in her irritation and grumbling about ridiculous mamas.

Rereha came to stand next to Aymeric, a flask in hand. She looked up at him, rolled her eyes as she took in his expression, and took a deep pull from the flask. She swallowed and said, “You are so totally gone on her it isn’t funny.”

“Of course; should I not be?” Aymeric looked away from his lady charming one of the most featured creatures in Dravania long enough to grin down at the bard. “How did you manage to keep the knowledge out of the stories of how she can tame any beast she desires with naught but sweet words and a gentle touch?”

“The fact that absolutely _no one_ would believe a person would willing run up to a king behemoth and pet him and scratch behind his ears because she thought he was genuinely _cute_.”

Aymeric hummed thoughtfully and tipped his head to Rereha in acknowledgement; it _was_ rather far-fetched.

The area suddenly rattled with a fresh round of even louder, heartier purrs than before, and everyone—Spoken, carbuncle, chocobo, and coeurl—turned to look at Synnove and the Coeurlregina. Synnove had reached up with one hand to scratch _right_ between the queen’s antlers, in a spot that would be impossible for the creature herself to ever reach, while tickling her chin and crooning about _oh you’re so such a good girl yes you are!_ The Coeurlregina heartily approved, if the thumping of one hind leg and her thunderous purrs were anything to go by.

Aymeric’s grin went from besotted to utterly soppy.

Rereha made a noise of disgust and took another swig of brandy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am saddened that "Animal Empathy," "Disney Princess Effect," and "Fluffy Tamer" aren't tags on Ao3, particularly since the last is the trope name as used on TV Tropes.


	3. The Four Lords

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Assorted caption ficlets accompanying the aftermath of various points in the _Stormblood_ questline, "The Four Lords."
> 
> WARNINGS: Alcohol consumption, snakes (Seiryu in his animal form)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Originally posted to my tumblr...uh, over the course of several months between 5.2 and 5.5!

**_BYAKKO, THE WHITE TIGER_ **

  
_[Image description: a screenshot of Synnove with the auspice Byakko in Reisin Temple. Synnove is reaching out with both hands to pet Byakko.]_

~~

“KITTY!”

“Synnove, please don’t pet the auspi—oh dear gods we’re all gonna die.”

“…He’s purring.”

Not only was Byakko purring, he was crouched down into the stereotypical feline loaf, head lifted while Synnove scratched his neck and chin and face and crooned to him about being a _sweet, handsome kitty, so handsome, yes you are!_ The strength of his purrs echoed across the temple courtyard, drawing the attention of all the other auspices—not a few of whom watched with speculative envy.

In fact, Senri had heaved herself to her paws and was determinedly trundling directly towards Synnove and Byakko. {Hells _yeah,_ I want some of that,} the cat auspice muttered as she passed by the incredulous Warriors of Light and a giggling Tataru. {A person who knows how to give proper scritches? _That’s_ a blessing right there.}

(“ _How does she keep rolling natural twenties on animal handling?!_ ”

“Rere, what in the actual hells are you on about?”)

* * *

  
_[Image description: a caption of dialogue from the Wandering Minstrel, which reads, "Not to say that the Byakko you faced was a weakling, but the picture you paint is of a rather less intimidating auspice, don't you think? The sort some might even be willing to cuddle—or at least reach out and rub the belly."]  
_

~~

Synnove blinked. “It’s really soft,” she said. “I don’t know why anyone _wouldn’t_ want to rub Byakko’s belly.”

The Minstrel stared at her for a long moment, his jaw going slack, then dragged his gaze down to Rereha. He jerked his thumb at Synnove, eyebrows climbing up his forehead over his ubiquitous goggles.

The lalafell bard pulled a sake cup from her belt pouch and poured a serving from the bottle from which she had been swigging since they had started discussing the auspice in question. She held the cup up to him. “He purred,” she said. “Loudly.”

The Minstrel took the cup with shaking fingers, and tossed the alcohol back in a single gulp. Rereha held her bottle up in salute and followed suit.

Synnove blinked again, glancing back and forth between them while Heron and Alakhai snickered behind her. “What? What did I say?”

* * *

**_SUZAKU, THE SCARLET BIRD_ **

  
_[Image description: a screenshot of Synnove looking up at the auspice Suzaku, in the Hell's Kier arena.]  
_

_  
_ _[Image description: A close up screenshot of Synnove, arms crossed, with a wide, adoring grin on her face, staring up at Suzaku (off screen).]_

~~

Now that Suzaku’s aramitama was contained, and the scarlet bird restored to her senses, Synnove apparently could no longer help herself.

“You are _so pretty,_ ” the Highlander dreamily said to Suzaku.

The auspice ruffled her feathers in pleasure at the compliment. {Thank you,} she said, her bell-like voice ringing in their minds. {That is very kind to say.}

“Synnove—” Rereha began.

Synnove ignored her, still focused on Suzaku, her hands clasped in front of herself as she bounced on her toes. “Can I pet you?” she said.

 _“SYNNOVE, PLEASE STOP TRYING TO PET AUSPICES—_ oh for the love of coin and country.”

Suzaku, rather than respond verbally, had alighted on the ground and lowered her head. Synnove squeaked in delight, reaching out to gently stroke the auspice’s beak with one hand and carefully pet the crest on the top of Suzaku’s head with the other.

Synnove made another delighted squeak and began to babble: “HER FEATHERS ARE SO SILKY oh my gosh you are the _prettiest_ bird, yes you _are!”_

Suzaku squeezed her eyes closed, a soft whistle escaping her beak as she leaned into the attention. Her tailfeathers flared and shook in an avian tail wag, and Synnove’s voice got even squeakier as she lavished praise on the auspice.

Rereha pinched the bridge of her nose and sighed. “She’s going to want to pet Koryu when the time comes, isn’t she?”

“Yep.”

* * *

**_SEIRYU, THE AZURE (?) DRAGON (??)_ **

**  
** _[Image description: A screenshot of Synnove, seen from behind with her hands on her hips, gazing up at the auspice Seiryu, facing the viewer, in the courtyard directly in front of Reisin Temple.]_

_  
[Image description: A screenshot of Synnove standing before Reisin Temple, hand outstretched with palm up, towards Seiryu (off screen).]_

~~

“SYNNOVE GREYWOLFE, NOW IS NOT THE BLOODY FUCKING TIME. PET THE AUSPICE _LATER._ ”

“OH, COME ON, RERE, WE MIGHT ALL BE DEAD IN FIVE MINUTES.”

“ _SYNNOVE._ ”

“Oh, _fine._ ”

* * *

  
_[Image description: A screenshot of Synnove and Seiryu in his corner of Reisin Temple, after the encounter with Koryu. Synnove has her hand extended, palm upward, once more.]_

~~

“It’s later!”

The serpent auspice looked down at the grinning hyur standing with her hand outstretched towards himself. He blinked. { _What._ }

“It’s later. Pettings!”

Seiryu flicked his tongue, bewildered. {You were truly serious about that?}

Suzaku glided over with a single flap of her wings and perched on the stone behind him. {Oh, let her,} his sister said, fluffing her feathers before smoothing them flat once more. {Synnove gives excellent scritches. No one’s found that one confoundedly itchy spot at the back of my neck since Tenzen still walked with us.}

{She gives excellent belly rubs, too!} Byakko bellowed across the courtyard, and a chorus of assenting agreements arose from among the other auspices.

Seiryu shot them all, but especially his brother, an irritated look for disturbing the sanctity of the temple—the auspices hurriedly went about their business again, while Byakko merely laughed—but he sighed and returned his attention to Synnove. She was still grinning and her hand was still outstretched.

{You are ridiculous,} he said.

“I get that a lot. Now. Pets!” She held out both hands now and made a grabbing motion, bouncing on the balls of her feet.

He grumbled but lowered his head, and the moment he was in reach, Synnove settled her hands on his jaws and—

_oh goodness gracious._

Seiryu drew back just enough to properly coil himself into a comfortable puddle, then plopped his head onto the scaley pile of self, once more in easy reach. Synnove proceeded to scritch the spot right where his jaw met the bones of his many ribs and coo to him that he was _a handsome, clever lad, yes he was, and such shiny, healthy scales!_

Suzaku giggled while Byakko roared his laughter.


	4. Wolekdorf

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Scions arrive at Wolekdorf in search of the final relic to reach the Lightwarden Titania. Urianger explains to his fellows how to introduce themselves to the amaro.
> 
> Synnove approves +100.
> 
> WARNINGS: Mild spoilers for the Il Mheg storyline of Shadowbringers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Originally posted to my tumblr on July 2, 2019.

“So I bid ye seek out the amaro and make yourselves known unto them,” Urianger said to the assembled Scions. “A gentle touch shall suffice by way of a greeting.”

“I CAN PET THEM?!”

Minfilia jumped at the high-pitched squeal, turning around to stare with wide eyes at Synnove. The usually stoic Highlander had her hands clasped together, staring at Urianger with open delight, looking for all the world like an excited child at Starlight. Galette, draped around her mama’s shoulders, rolled her eyes.

Rereha _sighed._ Heron and Alakhai snickered. Thancred pinched the bridge of his nose, shaking his head. “I did not miss this,” Thancred muttered.

Alakhai reached over and smacked him upside the head. He winced from the force of the blow and grudgingly grumbled an apology as he rubbed his now-sore skull. Synnove, however, apparently hadn’t heard him, too focused on Urianger to a give a damn about anything else around herself, practically bouncing on her toes.

Urianger briefly cast his gaze skyward, as if to ask for patience from whatever power might be listening, before turning his attention fully to the vibrating woman. “Aye, Synnove,” he said, fondly exasperated, “thou mayest pet them.”

Synnove whooped and bolted for the nearest amaro, Galette yelping and hanging on for dear life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Nu Mou killed me and then the game told me to go pet some amaro, you bet your ASS I had to have Synnove's "it fluffy, must pet" instinct rear to the fore.


	5. Shadowed Sleep

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Rest-themed tumblr prompts: armor (falling in and out of a restless sleep; feeling safe when a loved one presses a kiss to their forehead and strokes their hair)._
> 
> Aymeric's nights are often restless. Memory can be cruel.
> 
> WARNINGS: PTSD, references to combat injuries (particularly those related to fighting dragons, including immolation), implied torture.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Originally posted to my tumblr on June 6, 2020.

He had been an advocate for the end of the Dragonsong War since he had first heard of its terrible origins (a lie, a lie, a vile _lie_ for which uncounted Ishgardians had died for a _millennium_ but for the cowardice and pride of King Thordan and then the Holy See), had had his own blood spilled on multiple occasions for daring to seek peace between man and dragon, and _still_ he had refused to be cowed. He counted Vidofnir and Vedrfolnir among his friends, and encouraged his fellow Ishgardians to begin the process of healing and set aside their enmity in favor of learning to coexist with their Dravanian neighbors and the men and women who had once been called _heretic_.

That did not mean he did not remember. That did not mean his nights were not haunted.

Tonight, at least, was one where he _knew_ he dreamed, his rational mind dulling the images flitting behind his eyelids from impossibly vivid to hazy sensation. Such awareness, however, meant that the distant roars of an elder wyrm, or the echoing shrieks of a falak, or the sharp gust of wind of a wivere diving past, were not enough to jolt him to full wakefulness as any of those would on the nights wherein his dreaming self was convinced he was fully awake and alert. The smell of burning flesh, or the feeling of being thrown into the air by a charging carapace dragon, only pushed him up to the awareness of rolling to his back and kicking the quilt away, its weight too reminiscent of being pinned beneath the enormous paw of a lesser dragon, before he was dragged back down into the fog of somnolent memory.

And then claws became knives. Bared fangs became sneers. The shape of Vishap bellowing fire twisted into the sadistic grin of Charibert. The snarling visage of a dragon morphed into the cold gaze of Zephirin, watching, waiting, judging. The blow of being swatted aside by a wyrm was suddenly Paulecrain’s fists in his abdomen while in the depths of the Vault, then Grinnaux’s in his back.

He heard himself gasping heavily, trying to claw back to consciousness, felt the sweat that trickled down his spine. It was when the mad gaze of Nidhogg morphed into the cold, too-familiar eyes of his fa—of the Archbishop that he finally, _finally_ forced his eyes open and stared unseeing at the ceiling while he breathed raggedly, unsure if he was awake or still in the throes of memory and the coffered ceiling of the bedroom was instead the shadowy, barred cells of the Church’s deepest dungeon, when he felt a hand, gentle and familiar, brush the hair from his eyes and run soothing fingers along his scalp.

“Easy, darling,” murmured a much beloved voice, rough with sleep. “You’re home, in your own bed. Dawn’s still a few bells hence.”

Aymeric turned his head, his breath rattling in his chest as he struggled to orient himself and then expelling in a rush of aching relief as Synnove, bright green eyes squinted half-open and a small, sad smile on her face, swam into focus. He could see Tyr behind her, the huge carbuncle stretched out and pressed up against her back, one of his tails draped over her hip and the intensity of his aetheric fur dimmed to a soft, comforting golden glow.

Wordlessly, Synnove raised up her arm in invitation and Aymeric rolled into the space without hesitation, tucking his face into her neck with another gusty sigh. She kissed his temple, then his forehead, as she dropped her arm back down and wrapped it around his shoulders, burying her hand in the hair at his nape and tossing her leg over his hip for good measure.

The tension began to drain from him as he lay encaged in Synnove’s firm grasp, his lips pressed against the steady pulse of her throat. Synnove smelled of clean skin and the faintest trace of chalk that always lingered when duty brought her back from the road to the Guild; Aymeric took a deep breath, letting it out slowly, his lady’s familiar scent driving back the memories of damp stone and scorched bodies. And now that his mind was quiet, he could better hear the blizzard raging outside: weather he never would have heard deep in the black cells of the Vault; weather the Dravanian horde would have never dared flown against, even when Nidhogg’s grief-driven vengeance ran its deepest.

With all of his senses assuring him his dreams had been just that, he snuggled closer, cinching his own arm around Synove’s waist (and having to forcefully shove his hand between her spine and Tyr’s to fully manage it), contentment settling over him like a comfortable blanket. As Synnove lazily began to pet him, humming low in her throat, Aymeric slowly drifted back to sleep that would remain untroubled the rest of the night.


	6. Haze

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Rest-themed tumblr prompts: cloud (waking up and being soothed back to sleep), for Alakhai._
> 
> Alakhai, briefly, in the aftermath of the Battle of Rhalgr's Reach. References the events of "[Fatigue](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20838770/chapters/50154023#workskin)" from _Aetherpact._
> 
> WARNINGS: Aftermath of violence, combat injuries (but nothing graphic).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Originally posted to my tumblr June 6, 2020.

It was the pain that woke her, lancing and throbbing along the entire length the left side of her body. A wheezing sound, low and raspy, escaped Alakhai as she opened her eyes; every breath _hurt_ as her chest rose and fell slowly. And she felt _heavy,_ both from the poppy milk that had definitely worn off as she slept and the casts encasing her left leg from mid-thigh to shin and her left arm from clavicle to wrist. She was propped upright in the cot by a multitude of pillows (where had they found so many in the Reach?), to keep from putting pressure on her cracked ribs, and yet more pillows had been shoved under her left arm to keep the weight of the cast from pulling her shoulder back out of its socket.

Getting her ass kicked sucked.

Out of the corner of her left eye, she could see Synnove, dead asleep, stripped down to smalls, her torso from just under her breasts to her hips wrapped in thick cotton bandages. A gusting breath of relief still escaped Alakhai: Tyr was draped over the Highlander’s blanketed legs with his head carefully pillowed on her left hip, dozing, and Ivar had curled himself into the spot between Synnove’s shoulder and chin, face pressed into his mama’s neck.

Carbuncles, even if none of their combat arrays were online, meant her aether had finally stabilized to something closer to _normal_ than _body about to cannibalize itself for fuel_ , thank any gods that were listening. One less thing to worry about. Now, where was Galette? The carbuncles _always_ re-manifested in order, and if there were two carbuncles about, the third had to be somewhere nearby.

Alakhai felt a middling weight settle on the very edge of her cot’s mattress close to her knee, and heard a very small, soft _meow._

Ah. There she was.

The Xaela carefully tilted her head down, mindful of the plasters keeping her horn from cracking apart any further, and met Galette’s gaze. Synnove’s eldest blinked up at her with big, dark eyes, her tails waving gently behind her as she stood with her front paws braced on the mattress.

“Hello, little zephyr,” Alakhai rasped quietly. Her throat felt like the Nhaama Desert; if she spoke any louder the sound would probably turn into a croak, and summon one of the damnably bat-eared conjurers. Despite her hurts, she was not in the mood for well-meaning fussing.

Galette’s ears twitched and she chirped. _Hi, Aunt Ala. May I come up?_

“Yes. Please.”

The emerald carbuncle carefully pulled herself up onto the cot, doing her very best to keep from jarring Alakhai or any of her pillows and, thankfully, succeeding. She daintily stepped over Alakhai’s legs to her right side, then curled up in the space between the wall of the tiny room and the Xaela’s hip. Alakhai gently pet her with her good hand, sighing quietly and closing her eyes once more.

Galette set her chin on Alakhai’s thigh and began to purr, the sound reminiscent of crystal windchimes tinkling in a soft La Noscea breeze. It settled in her bones, and gods all bless carbuncles, actually began to alleviate some of her pain. With another sigh, this one relieved, Alakhai let herself be lulled back to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alakhai really does not appreciate being thrown into walls, it sucks pretty hard.


	7. Cat Naps

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Rest-themed tumblr prompts: missing piece (falling asleep somewhere that isn't their bed) and cloud (waking up and being soothed back to sleep)._
> 
> Synnove's ability to fall asleep anywhere is downright ridiculous.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Originally posted to my tumblr on June 6, 2020.

Aymeric stared up at the very top of the bookshelf in bemusement, then glanced over to the tonberry diligently grading papers at the desk cornerwise to Synnove’s own. “And this is a _common_ occurrence?” he drawled with fond exasperation.

Halulu, partially hidden by mountains of paper and roughly stacked books, didn’t bother to look up from her work. “Yep,” she said. He could faintly hear the scratch of her quill against parchment.

Aymeric shook his head, chuckling.

The multitude of bookshelves, built into the walls, in the round space of Synnove’s tower office were huge, heavy things of dark-stained oak, each ten fulms tall and six wide with built-in ladders and stuffed to overflowing with tomes of all sorts. The shelves alternated with the nested, sliding chalkboards made of heavy slate on which Synnove did her equations, so that every spare inch of wall was covered. _More_ of those chalkboards were built _over_ those same bookshelves, alternating with the thick-paned windows, as the bookshelves had apparently been built deep enough for, well, a Highlander to stand on the top and pace and write on her chalkboards without care about whether she would fall.

They were also, just as apparently, a favorite napping spot when exhaustion overtook his ladylove in the middle of one of her research binges. Synnove was currently stretched out on one, using her right arm as a pillow while the left dangled over the side, her hair turned ghostly from chalk dust _,_ and softly snoring as she slept.

He supposed he should be thankful she hadn’t ended up falling asleep _standing upright_ , as he had sometimes found her in the Fortemps Manor library she had commandeered for herself, dozing with either her shoulder braced or head leaning against the slate board Count Edmont had found for her use. He should send a prayer to the Fury, too, that she slept like the dead, very rarely moving once she achieved true, deep sleep, else he would have been significantly more concerned for her safety up on the shelf.

(He very resolutely refused to acknowledge the memory of one of Dancing Heron’s grumbled rants about some of the stranger places she had found Synnove asleep, including perched atop one of her tall, portable stepladders. It was the hyperbole of an annoyed older sister. Absolutely that and nothing else.)

Regardless, there was no chance sleeping up there was _comfortable._

Shaking his head again, Aymeric strode over to the bookshelf on which Synnove slept, checking to see if the ladder brake was down, and climbing up after he confirmed that it was. Once he was level with Synnove, he couldn’t help the deep affection that welled up in his chest and manifested as a helplessly besotted smile at the sight of her; the weight of her responsibilities did not sit so heavily on her shoulders, and Synnove slept with a boneless relaxation he rarely saw her with when she was awake.

He reached out to run the backs of his fingers along her cheek, smiling softly as he leaned over to murmur in her ear, “Wake up, sweetling.”

It took long, careful coaxing, constantly whispering soft entreaties to her and stroking her cheek, before Synnove finally rose enough from her torpor to acknowledge him with a drawn out, unhappy groan. She slitting her green eyes open just enough to balefully glare at him, and made an adorable little grunt in question at him.

He kissed her temple. “Come along, my love,” he said. “I have a better idea for a place to nap.”

She groaned again, eyes falling shut, but she reluctantly pushed herself upright, and clambered down the ladder after him, grumbling wordlessly the entire time while he merely chuckled in response. Aymeric stepped to the side once he reached the floor, holding the ladder steady for her, needless though it was, and once she was to the last rung, swept her up into his arms. Synnove squeaked in surprise and swatted at him, even as she mashed her face into his chest and hooked the fingers of one hand in his jerkin to keep herself close. He laughed quietly and dropped a kiss on the top of her head as he walked over to the couch offset from her own and Halulu’s desks; this time, the noise Synnove made in answer was pleased.

Aymeric settled himself carefully on the couch, swinging his legs up so he was sitting sideways—the couch was easily long enough to accommodate a fully grown roegadyn to stretch out, gods bless Lominsan furniture—with Synnove in his lap. As he leaned back into the pillow-covered corner and wrapped his arms around Synnove, gently stroking her spine, his lady burrowed closer, moving her face from his chest to his neck, tension once more leeching out of her as she quickly dropped back to sleep. Another light snore, slightly muffled, echoed from her, and he grinned, kissing her hair again.

“Rereha’s right,” Halulu said, her voice pitched to carry without increasing her volume. “You two _are_ disgusting.”

“I choose to take that as a compliment,” Aymeric said primly.

The tonberry snickered.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ayyy, look, it's a Halulu! \o/ Also some fluff to alleviate the Ow of the past two chapters. (You get a reprieve from Ow until the upload after next. >:3)


	8. Treed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Rest-themed tumblr prompt: missing piece (falling asleep somewhere that isn't their bed)._
> 
> In hindsight, going off into the Chocobo Forest close to sunset to scout the terrain hadn't been the wisest idea for Rereha and Alakhai.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Originally posted to my tumblr on June 6, 2020.

“Rereha, I will _strangle_ you.”

“Oh, fuck you, too, Alakhai, this wasn’t entirely _my_ fault.”

The Xaela was cut off from responding by the coeurl that had treed them lunging up the trunk, its front paw swiping at Alakhai’s foot. Both women yelled and scrambled further up into the branches of the old maple, perching precariously in some of the higher branches as the rest of the clowder prowled below them. Alakhai tucked her legs up lotus style as she glared down at the coeurls—they looked similar enough to La Noscean coeurls, if perhaps a little stockier and thicker furred to account for the colder clime, but there was something a little _too_ intelligent about these Dravanian ones—before dragging her displeased gaze to Rereha.

“You’re supposed to be _good_ at noticing wildlife in a forest, Mistress Serpent Lieutenant.”

“There’s a difference between _tracking_ and _being actively stalked,_ Little Miss Assassin.”

The two glared at one another for long moments before they both _sighed,_ shoulders drooping.

“I hate Dravania.”

“Agreed.”

“Wildlife is too smart for its own good.”

Alakhai grunted agreement and reached up to her horn—and _swore._ “Llymlaen’s _tits,_ my ’pearl cuff was in my pack.”

Rereha reached up to her ear and shrieked—quietly, though the coeurls below them still all collectively swiveled their heads to _stare_ at her—in outrage at feeling the blank spot where her own linkpearl cuff usually sat. She hadn’t put it on this morning because it had been _cold_ and fuck wearing metal jewelry on her extremities when it was cold. With a whine of discontent, she turned to look west at the rapidly setting sun. “Oh my _fucking_ gods, how the _fuck_ does this shite happen to us. We’re going to be up here all night until the ‘bos can get Heron and Synnove from Tailfeather, aren’t we?”

Her friend groaned and nodded. “Best two out of three for first watch?”

Rereha held out her closed fist, Alakhai doing the same, and the pair quickly played out roshambo. Alakhai groaned again when she lost round three, but she settled herself on her branch, staring down at the coeurls who now sat around the base of the trees and stared right back up at her.

The coeurls growled.

The Xaela growled back.

The coeurls looked mildly impressed.

Rolling her eyes, the lalafell pulled off her outer parka, laying it across her lap, then the lighter jacket beneath it. Rereha shrugged the parka back on and yanked the belt on it to the tightest hole to keep the garment snug against herself, then balled up the light jacket into a makeshift pillow. She curled up into the spot between her own branch and the trunk, shoving her jacket between her head and the bark, and dropped into a light sleep. Second watch would come sooner than she would like, after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You know Alakhai's pissed off when she actually _uses_ her words.


	9. Bowed, Bent, but Unbroken

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Rest-themed tumblr prompts: fog (hearing 'stay awake' as they are carried to safety) and repair (being confined to bed due to injury or illness and hating every second of it)._
> 
> The Battle of Rhalgr's Reach is over, and Dancing Heron is currently the only thing keeping her sister from bleeding out.
> 
> References the events of "[Fatigue](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20838770/chapters/50154023#workskin)" from _Aetherpact._
> 
> WARNINGS: Aftermath of violence, combat injuries, mentions of blood.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Originally posted to my tumblr on June 7, 2020.

Dancing Heron didn’t acknowledge the chaos around her, too busy holding her gambeson over the huge wound Zenos had cut into Synnove’s abdomen, until a trio of Serpent medics knelt around her. Two carried a stretcher, and without speaking, Heron helped them roll Synnove onto her side so they could move it under her unconscious littlest sister, and then carefully roll her onto her back once more. The third medic placed her hands on either side of Heron’s—just her right hand, as her left arm was tucked up against her side, possibly broken from when Zenos had shattered her shield—and reluctantly, Heron moved her bloody hand away while the medic pressed _down,_ keeping the pressure steady on Synnove.

There was suddenly a fourth medic crouched next to her, as the other three smoothly stood and hustled towards the Rhalgr’s Reach infirmary. Heron ignored the new medic, too busy watching the ones taking Synnove away in a daze; she noted Alisaie running ahead of the trio, the shock of Rereha’s pink-and-white hair just peeking out from over the young elezen’s shoulder, a Serpent conjurer keeping pace and clearly rapidly casting with a grimly determined expression on his face. Out of the corner of her eye, another stretcher carried by Flame medics hurried by with Alakhai on it, Vice Marshal Tarupin trudging after it, holding his shoulders carefully still in the manner of someone with injured ribs. She didn’t see Krile with Y’shtola, or Alphinaud with Conrad, though even in the gloom of night she could still see the blood soaking the ground where the four of them had been. Presumably, then, the medics had already moved Y’shtola and Conrad to the infirmary, and now that Heron thought about it, she had heard Krile bellow orders as General Aldynn’s forces arrived.

The new medic was speaking to her, and Heron forcibly dragged her attention back to him. She blinked, her vision suddenly greying with exhaustion, and she slurred out, “I’m sorry, what was that?”

The medic didn’t twitch or frown, simply enunciated clearly to ensure his lips could be read if necessary and repeated himself: “Do you know what injuries you have?”

“Left forearm is broken,” said Heron, after a moment of gathering herself to speak as clearly as she could. “Left fingers feel tingly. Possible concussion; m’helm got knocked off and I know I took a blow to the head after. M’ybe two? Ribs also hurt. Vision is grey at the edge. Seeing two of you now.”

The elezen and his double swimming in her sight nodded. “Not great, not terrible. Come on, let’s get you on your feet.”

Working together slowly, they got her right arm over his shoulder, and he held it in place with his right hand while he wrapped his left arm around her waist and squeezed lightly. “How’s that feel?” he said.

“Sore, but not painf’l.”

“Good enough. All right, on three. One, two—”

With a grunt of effort, the medic pushed himself to standing, bringing Heron with him. She hissed as her ribs gave a token protest—bruised, then, instead of cracked or broken—and her head spun with vertigo. The medic waited patiently, and when she gave him a nod, they began the slow trudge to the infirmary.

Heron didn’t remember most of the journey, head hanging as she tried to watch where she put her feet, but at one point there was a clatter of armored boots and a familiar voice—male, young, Ala Mhigan accent. The medic stopped them and there was a hurried conversation she couldn’t make out, and then her left arm was being gently lifted and placed around the shoulder of a tall Highlander who braced himself up against her left side and held her arm steady at the elbow.

Platinum blond hair, dark skin, shining armor as fine as any Sultansworn’s. Arenvald.

“Hey, lil’ bro,” Heron said. Her tongue felt thick and heavy in her mouth.

“Hey, big sis,” Arenvald said. He and the medic began moving again, and Heron stumbled along between them. “Not too far now. No sleeping just yet, all right? Need to let the healers give you the once over first.”

“Do my best.”

Her memory went vague and hazy at that point; she was fairly certain she hadn’t actually fallen asleep and just lost time; she could only barely recall Arenvald and the Serpent medic helping her sit on a cot and then getting off the last of her armor. She didn’t even remember her arm being set (though that admittedly was a mercy), but at some point, the medics must have been satisfied, and let her swing her legs up onto the cot, lean back against a pile of pillows, and drop off to sleep.

Of course, she nearly ended up right back on the medics’ shitlist when she woke up and tried to go find her sisters. Krile must have been close enough to hear her, or possibly right outside the cell Heron had been put in, because she roared through the curtain partition like a summer storm, a fierce scowl on her face. “No! No! Back on that cot!” she whisper-shouted, pointing to the cot with a glare.

“This is not the worst I’ve had,” Heron said, feet on the floor and ready to push herself upright.

“I don’t bloody _care,_ you are _not_ aggravating those injuries, Thaliak help me I will slap you with _Repose_ before you can blink.”

“I can at least help with stitching—”

“Gods preserve me, Heron, you don’t have to be useful every waking moment of the day! Get back on that cot!” The lalafell woman put her hands on her hips. “Your job right now is to rest and heal and be the good example for Rereha while _she’s_ healing.”

Heron’s teeth clicked as she shut her mouth so quickly, she nearly bit her tongue. She swallowed heavily and felt tears prick at her eyes. Oh, gods, that bastard had nearly taken Rere’s entire arm at the shoulder. “How bad?” she whispered.

“Bad,” Krile said, softening her tone as she walked over to gently lay her hands on Heron’s uninjured arm. “She’ll keep the arm, but the conjurers haven’t finished with her yet, and I won’t know more until they are.”

Heron hung her head and nodded. “And Synnove and Alakhai?” She couldn’t help how her voice kept thickening with tears. Terror had been riding her since the moment Zenos had first sliced through Rereha’s arm and began picking them off one by one with contemptuous ease, and now that fear was beginning to roar back to the fore.

Krile patted arm with both hands, and waited until Heron met her gaze. She said, gently, “Synnove just came out; she’ll be all right, though she’ll have a nasty scar to show for it, and we’re treating her aether shock now. She hasn’t woken up, but that’s to be expected. Alakhai is conscious, but she took a beating and she’s got a flock of Serpents getting her pieced together again.” She sighed. “Your injuries aren’t as bad as they could have been, it’s true, and I would _very_ much like to keep it that way. All right?”

“All right,” Heron whispered. Some of the tightness in her chest began to loosen, knowing that while her sisters weren’t completely out of the woods, they _would_ be all right. “Can you put Rereha in here when she’s out?”

“We were already planning on it,” Krile said with a small smile. “I’m going to send in Alisaie in shortly, too, to keep you company; I don’t think either of you should be alone right now, and she’s on her last legs at the moment.”

“I’d like that.”

Krile helped her get settled back on the cot, smoothing the blanket on her lap once it was settled into place, and patted her on the knee. “We’ll get through this,” the lalafell said, her voice and gaze resolute. “We always do.”

“Thank you, Krile.” Heron swallowed. “I needed to hear that.”

“And I’ll keep saying it until you believe it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I certainly never intended for two out of the five rest prompts I received to end up being more post-Battle of Rhalgr's Reach, but here we are. Kinda of a traumatizing event all around for the Squad, but I particularly like how this dive in Heron's POV turned out.


End file.
